even at its lowest point, Thamar is still of a royal house-as I am.” She put her slender hand on his brawny arm and looked up at him. “It has not been easy for her, Murad. At least I have your love. Even as wives we would not really be equals, but it would soothe Thamar’s pride. She has given you a son, and is worthy of it.”
“I have not said I would marry either of you,” he grumbled.
“But you will, my lord, for you know what I say is true.”
“Damn me, woman, do not nag at me!”
She knelt quietly, eyes lowered, hands folded quietly. The perfect picture of the submissive wife, which he knew she was not and would never be. She had a point. A wife always commanded far more respect in the harem than did a favorite. And when he was gone a widow wielded more power than an ex-favorite.
“I will have no fanfare,” he said. “It will be done quietly. Tonight.” He clapped his hands and told the attending slave, “Have Ali Yahya fetch the chief mullah of Adrianople.” The slave departed, and the sultan turned to Adora. “My sons will witness this act. Send them to me, and tell Thamar of my decision.”
She rose from her kneeling position. “Thank you, my lord.”
“You are at least gracious in victory,” he said wryly. “Well, woman, what will you have for your bride’s price?”
“Constantinople!” she answered calmly.
He burst out laughing. “You put a high price on yourself, Adora, but damn me, you’re well worth it! For now, however, I will settle an amount of gold on you. Return it to me when I give you the city.”
“With interest, my lord, for I shall invest it with the Venetians.” She moved to the door. Then, turning, she said simply, “I love you, Murad. I always have.”
He pulled her roughly into his arms and buried his face in her hair. For a moment they stood silently, and she could feel the even beat of his heart. “I am not a romantic prince such as are spoken of by the Persian poets,” he said. “
“You are my prince of love,” she interrupted him.
He held her away from him so he might look into her face. “Woman,” he said huskily, “you are a part of me. If I lost you I should be as one half dead.”
Her violet eyes shone with joy. He was encouraged to go on. “I love you, Adora.” And then abruptly turning away from her, he said, “Send my sons to me.”
A few hours later Adora and Thamar stood quietly hidden in a small room above the sultan’s private salon. They secretly watched and listened through a carved lattice as the sultan dictated their marriage contracts to the scribes. This was followed by the brief Muslim wedding ceremony, witnessed by Prince Bajazet and his half brother, Prince Yakub. The brides did not participate in the ceremony. Murad united himself first with Theadora, then with Thamar. When it was over, neither woman said a word to the other, but went her own way back to her own court.
The following day the court began its trip to Bursa, traveling overland to the coast within sight of Constantinople. Before they embarked across the Sea of Marmara, Adora sent a verbal message to her sister, Helena, via the Byzantine guards sent by the emperor to honor his overlord. “Tell the empress that her sister, the sultan’s
“She gives herself airs,” sniffed Helena after the message had been delivered.
“She only speaks the truth,” said John Paleaologi with a happy chuckle. He fingered the parchment he was holding and looked down at it again. “He married her several days ago.”
The look on his wife’s face was extremely gratifying to the emperor, and he did not temper her disappointment by telling her that Murad also had taken Thamar to wife. Let Helena stew in her own venom! And with that happy thought, the emperor left his wife and Constantinople to join the festivities in Bursa.
The emir of Germiyan’s daughter was to be wed with a pomp unlike anything yet seen in the Ottoman court. The sultan enjoyed the more elegant of Byzantine customs, and so did his sons. So while the younger Germiyan princess, Zenobia, who was but ten, was quietly wed to Murad’s loyal general and sent to live with her husband’s mother, her older sister was married amid general rejoicing and great festivities.
Throughout the city, whole sheep were roasted over open fires, and the sultan’s slaves moved through the crowds offering freshly baked cakes of chopped almonds and honey. Murad gave each of his noble visitors his own palace with a staff of well-trained servants, and a harem of half a dozen beautiful virgins. The rulers of Germiyan, Tekke, Hamid, Karamania, Sarakhan, Aydin, and Byzantium were so honored.
There were wrestlers, acrobats, and jongleurs, puppet shows and trained animals performing all about the city. Byzantium’s elegant customs and love of display were creeping into the Ottoman way of life, and the Ottomans liked it.
While Murad hosted the wedding feast for the bridegroom and his guests, Adora entertained the bride and the other women. The feasting and festivities went on for nine days. On the evening of the ninth day, Zubedya of Germiyan was carried in a closed litter to her husband’s house where she met Bajazet for the first time. She was accompanied by Adora and Thamar.
When they had prepared the girl for bed, Adora said, “I will inform your lord and master that you await his pleasure.”
“No, my lady mother,” said Zubedya. “The custom of my land is that the husband of a princess of Germiyan must wait upon
“I think that neither my lord Murad nor my son is aware of this custom. It is truth and not fear?”
“Truth, madame. I swear it.”
Adora laughed again. “A very good custom,” she said, “and one we shall take for our own. From this day forth it will be thus for all Ottoman princesses.” She looked at Zubedya. “You will not keep Bajazet waiting long, child? He is proud, as are all men, and I would have you happy with him. Do not begin on the wrong foot.”
The girl shook her head. Adora kissed her on the cheek. “I wish you joy,” she said. Thamar followed Adora’s example and then the two women left the bride.
“If the chit were married to my son I would not allow such a thing,” snapped Thamar as they hurried to greet the bridegroom and his party.
“But she is not married to your son. She is married to mine.”
“I don’t know why Murad could not have arranged for my Yakub to wed with Germiyan,” complained Thamar. “Then at least Yakub would have had his own kingdom when the old emir died.”
“Murad is not interested in Yakub having his own kingdom. He is building an empire for the future generations of Ottoman sultans who will follow him. One day we will rule from Constantinople to Belgrade to Baghdad.”
“You are mad!” sneered Thamar.
“No, I have vision, as did my ancestors. They were empire-builders too. But I cannot expect the daughter of a man little more than a tribal chieftain to understand such a thing.”
And before Thamar could reply, they entered the atrium of the house to greet the bridegroom and his party. Adora looked at her two sons with a feeling of amazement. Halil was a handsome replica of her own father, a tall, dark, blue-eyed man with curly black hair and a full beard. His cleverly built-up boot made the limp barely visible. He was an invaluable advisor to his half brother Murad.
At eighteen, Bajazet was his father’s son. He was a tall man, with a long prominent nose, large, expressive black eyes, and Murad’s sensual mouth. From his mother he had inherited his fair skin which he now kept smoothly shaven. As he grew older he would grow a magnificent black beard like his older half brother, Halil.
From both his parents he had inherited intelligence, and he was already showing himself to be a brilliant military commander. The soldiers had nicknamed him “Yiderim” or “thunderbolt”. Though bright, Bajazet was impulsive. His parents hoped this trait would diminish as he grew older.
Adora kissed her younger son, and he asked, “My bride awaits me?”
Adora turned to the emir of Germiyan. “Tell me, my lord emir, is there in your country a custom that permits your daughter to keep the bridegroom waiting upon her?”
For a moment the elderly ruler of Germiyan looked puzzled. Then, as comprehension dawned, he looked embarrassed. “I had forgotten!” he exclaimed. “Trust that minx Zubedya to remember the ancient custom.”
“Do you mean,” asked Murad, “that according to this custom Bajazet may not enter the bridal chamber until he
